


Ms. Fowl and Mr. Short

by pernedthegyre



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: AU, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Gender Issues, The Author Regrets Nothing, female!Artemis, genderflipped, male!Holly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 21:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9289463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pernedthegyre/pseuds/pernedthegyre
Summary: Artemis was born a girl, and his father despaired. A girl could never run the family business. At the age of four, she had already begun to prove him wrong. An AU where Artemis was always a girl and Holly was always a boy.





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ObeliskX](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ObeliskX).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we go. This is going to be a fun romp. For this retelling, I don't plan on rewriting the books scene by scene, but I do plan on covering the entire series. Keep me posted on whether or not I am making this too similar to the books. I would hate for you all to feel bored. I am currently lacking a consistent beta, so all mistakes are my own. I will try to make posts on this one about once a week, but because my life is a little crazy right now (recent graduate looking for a job and all that) I make no guarantees. And everyone who has previous experience on my fanfiction.net posting record is ready to burn my alive, so we all know how good I am at keeping to a schedule. (backs away with a nervous laugh)
> 
> Speaking of my other works, Techno is on hiatus until I figure out what the heck I am going to do with it. It started as a one-shot, and mutated before I really had an idea where I wanted it to go. My plan is to contemplate this until the answer arrives. As for Fullmetal Thunder... (laughs hysterically until the author dies). Anyways, I hope you enjoy this new story!
> 
> Shout-out to ObeliskX, who got me out of my post-novel writing cave by requesting this. This one is for you!

When Artemis Fowl the Second came into the world, her father felt nothing but disappointment. A daughter. A daughter could never take over the family business.

At the age of four, Artemis had already set herself out to prove him wrong.

Later, Angelina would always remark that Artemis had been a quiet child. She never smiled, but her wide blue eyes took the world in with greedy sweeps. She didn't cry. She didn't fuss. Then one day, she simply crawled over to a chair, hoisted herself to her feet, and began to walk with nothing but the slightest wobble in her step. It set the tone for the rest of her achievements in life.

Her father doted on her with every fiber of his being, with Artemis liked briefly for its usefulness but quickly grew to despise. At the age of four, Artemis knew many things. She knew her father brought men to the house, rough men with violence and guile in their eyes. She knew she was young and female. Time would cure one, but not the other.

She knew her mother would cry at night alone and behind closed doors. Artemis would stand in the corridor in her night gown, feeling both embarrassment at her mother's weakness and the itching desire to use her small body to soothe her mother's wounds. But Fowls did not crawl into their mother's arms. Fowls did not touch. It was a weakness she could little afford. So, Artemis would simply stand outside the door, unable to move forward or away, until Angelina's sobs petered out and released her to trod wearily to bed.

One day when she was six, Artemis took a break from completing her secondary school courses (under an assumed name, of course) to wander downstairs. Butler was a constant and massive shadow at her side, dogging her footsteps as she was accustomed to him doing. Two men were standing in front of her father's office, clearly waiting to speak with the syndicate boss. Artemis could hear a muffled voice coming from inside and assumed her father was taking a phone call, his own Butler standing guard loyally at his side. The thick carpet muffled the sound of her penny loafers, making a noiseless ghost as she moved with a grace that belied her age. Artemis looked side-along at the two men as she passed, her blue eyes cool, and said to them in passing, "I wouldn't, if I were you." Artemis's voice was high and young, a fact she cursed daily, but it was still chill enough to give the two men pause. The shorter of the pair took two steps forward, dropping to one knee to lower himself to Artemis's height. The young girl gave a small huff of irritation. She did exactly want to stop for a prolonged chat. Reluctantly, she paused and turned her body the minimum needed to face the kneeling man.

"Now what do you mean by that, little girl?" the man asked in a pleasant, friendly tone. Artemis scoffed. Everything about the man was ostentatiously repulsive, from the white tuxedo to the flashy golden stud embedded in his right ear lobe. He smiled at her, a tight-lipped affair that went nowhere near his eyes.

Artemis looked up at the man haughtily, wishing she had the height to look down at him instead. "I would not cross my father if I were you," she said coolly, her high voice portraying nothing but boredom.

The man blinked, caught out in a moment of surprise, but recovered well. He said, with a politely puzzled laugh, "I don't know what you're talking about. You're a strange kid, saying such things."

Artemis didn't even bother faking a smile. She just gave him an impetuous stare and said, "It is not strange. Now strange at all when you look at your travel records over the past three months." Artemis's eyes never left the man's. "Beijing. Hong Kong. Dubai. You are playing a risky game, dealing from both sides of the table. But I'll tell you why you miscalculated." With every word that fell from Artemis's pink lips, the man's smile slowly faded, transforming into something uglier.

"Oh yeah?" he asked meanly, his teeth bared in a threatening grin. "And why is that, girl?"

Artemis smiled back at him, every inch an innocent angel, and leaned in closer. "You should fear my father more," she whispered, a nasty smirk briefly breaking free from her false innocence. "Because if he finds out about this, he will end you."

The man lurched forward, clearly losing control of his anger, but Butler was there in an instant, checking the man's swing with a hand the size of a baseball mitt. "That would also be unwise," Butler rumbled, then let go. The man in the suit grimaced as if in pain, rubbing the spot where Butler had grabbed him. He slowly rose to his feet, glowering at them both as he did so. Butler stood directly behind Artemis, the kitten dwarfed by a mountain. The man's eyes darted between the two of them, shark-like and calculating, before he recovered his smile. Ignoring Butler's warning glare, he reached down and put a hand on Artemis's minuscule shoulder.

Leaning in, he said lowly through his poisonous smile, "What the hell do you know? You're just a kid. Pretty little girls who wear dresses have no business messing around with things they don't understand. Go back to playing with dolls or whatever the hell it is you do." He squeezed her shoulder once, hard and claw-like, before straightening and turning towards the door once more. "Real men are doing business here."

Artemis blinked, taken aback. She had never been spoken to like this before. It left heated words on the tip of her tongue and a strange feeling in her small chest. She wanted to say something in reply, to show this man how clever she was, how wrong and ignorant and _stupid_ his words were. Artemis did none of these things. Instead, Butler placed a gentle hand on her back and guided her to walk down the hall once more.

Artemis spent most of the trip looking at her own feet, mind spinning with too many thoughts to track. Sensing her need for privacy and space, Butler led her back to her room, guiding her gently through the maze of corridors that made Fowl Manor. Finally, as the door to her sanctum came into view, Butler broke the silence, saying carefully, "That was unwise, young Mistress. I know you are smart, very smart, but deliberately antagonizing an enemy is never a good idea. Not without a purpose for it, at least," he amended after a moment of thought. Artemis continued to train her gaze on her penny loafers, silent and still.

Finally, after a long minute of Butler patiently waiting at her side, Artemis finally said, "Thank you, Butler. I will keep that in mind." Looking up, she opened her door and stepped inside, saying without looking back, "That will be all for now." As the door clicked closed behind her, Butler let out something between a chuckle and an exasperated sigh, moving to stand guard at the door while the young Mistress worked. He could already tell his charge was going to be more than a handful. Thank goodness he kept his head shaved. That way he would be spared the indignity of watching the grey hairs pop up along his scalp.

Inside, Artemis crossed the floor with quick, determined steps. She stopped in front of her full-length mirror, staring hard at her own reflection. There was a short, pale girl there, eyes already shadowed from long nights. Artemis was often frustrated with her body's need for sleep, as it severely limited the amount of time she could spend absorbing knowledge. Hopefully, that would soon begin to change.

Her light blue dress was ruffled, and she smoothed a careful hand over the folds. Is this what people saw? A tiny girl with big eyes and raven hair? Below the roundness of youth, her face had an angular shape that predicted high cheek bones after puberty. Eyes narrowed, she probed the shape of her jaw and dragged careful fingers through her long dark tresses. Artemis's hair swung loose and straight to her waist, curling gently at the very ends where the weight wasn't there to make it tame. It made for a pretty picture, Artemis could admit that, but is that what she wanted to be? Did she really want to be nothing more than a pretty picture, the china doll that was dressed and mannered to make up for the man she should have been?

Walking over to her desk, Artemis studied the various scientific instruments littering the top, a chemistry set and microscope swallowed by her growing mass of computer parts. So far, she liked machines the best. They were easier to understand that the messiness of organics, bound and structured around finite rules. Living things, people especially, were much harder to decipher. Rummaging through the contents, she found what she was looking for. The scalpel, used for making slides out of once-living material, was razor sharp. It glinted in the light from the window as she walked back to the mirror, staring down her own eyes with dispassionate detachment. Then, carefully, methodically, she fisted a bunch of her hair and cut through it with the mercilessness of an executioner's sword. Black strands rained down, falling like dark snow, but Artemis paid it no heed. She had a goal in mind, and once a Fowl made up their mind, there was no hesitating on the path they had chosen.

After five minutes of brutal strokes, the deed was done, and Artemis was left standing in a circle of carnage. Narrowing her ice blue eyes, she turned her head this way and that, viewing the results. It looked atrocious, she concluded, but that didn't matter. A hair dresser could always be procured to neaten her shoddy work. The end result was all that mattered.

Shaking her head to dislodge any loose strands of hair, Artemis padded softly to her dresser. With great care, she slipped her penny loafers from her feet and tucked them neatly inside. Next came her dress, pulled unceremoniously over her head and folded neatly atop her shoes. The chill was unpleasant, forcing her to move quickly, rummaging along the back of her voluminous dresser until she laid hands on her prize. A single pair of tiny suit pants and a white dress shirt were pulled from the depths, clasped triumphantly in her hands like a victory. Artemis dressed quickly, smoothing her hands experimentally over the new fabric when she was finished. It felt different, Artemis concluded, but not necessarily bad. Walking sedately back to the mirror, she looked at the new, drastically different reflection. A wave of pleasure washed through Artemis, and she smiled genuinely, quite pleased with her efforts.

She was not satisfied with the life of a china doll.

That night ended with rage on the part of Artemis Senior and tears from Angelina, both shocked and aghast at Artemis's drastic transformation. Through the storm of emotion, little Artemis was a serene boat in a choppy sea, confident and unshakable in her choice. She would not be underestimated. She absolutely refused to be looked down upon by what she considered to be a mere accident of birth. One day, Artemis Fowl the Second would take over her father's empire and lead them to heights that they had never imagined. She would see to that.

Soon after, her parents stopped buying her dresses entirely.

Later in life Jon Spiro would forget this day, the day he had met a little girl with eyes of ice. But Artemis never forgot. It was a mistake Spiro would curse himself roundly for.

* * *

What as there to say about Captain Holly Short that hadn't already been said?

Commander Root considered this as he chewed on the cap of his pen, sitting at his desk and wishing desperately for a smoke. He hated doing these d'arviting quarterly evaluations. The whole blasted thing could be summed up in one question. Do you think this person is good enough to be on your task force? Yes, obviously, otherwise he would have booted them to the curb before this dratted evaluation came up. Less paperwork was always the better route, thought Root with a snort, uncapping his pen and bending over the paper with an annoyed sigh. He squinted at the first question, ignoring the niggling thought in the back of his mind that he might need glasses soon. Glasses were for old fairies, and Julius Root still had some life in him yet.

In bold Gnomish, the first question read as follows: What are the best qualities and skills possessed by the above officer? Root laughed deep from his belly, and from outside the office he heard the sound of someone startling, dropping their mug with a clatter. It was probably Wilkins. That guy was a problem, thought Root darkly as he began to put pen to the paper. He was going to have lots to say about Wilkins. That officer needed to grow a spine. Gods only knew how he had hung on this long. Wilkins was one bad mission away from a nervous breakdown, and everyone knew it. Shaking his head, Root finished his sentence and leaned back with a sigh.

Holly Short was one of the best damn pilots Root had ever seen, and this was including himself back in his cadet days. Short seemed to delight in shattering everyone's old flight records. That boy reveled in any chance to fly, thought Root in amusement. Short was also good in a crisis, thought well on his feet, and was decently proficient in hand-to-hand. Overall, Short was a fine officer, one Root thought he could polish into an exceptional one. There was great potential there, hindered by only a few major flaws.

Bending back over the paper, Root addressed the next question: What are some of this officers flaws and weaknesses? Scowling, Root scrawled out his answer, keeping the pen cap in his mouth so he could grind his teeth against it. Short had the infuriating habit of disobeying orders if he thought he saw a better way. Most of the time, it worked. However… Root stared into emptiness, not seeing the paper in front of his own eyes as he considered the possibilities. The LEPD officers needed to work as a team. Lone wolves often got themselves hurt, or got others around them hurt. That's why discipline was so important, why the chain of command must be iron. Those in the midst of battle wouldn't always be capable of seeing the bigger picture. That's what Commanders were for. Short needed to d'arviting respect that. Otherwise, thought Root with a sense of growing disquiet, the day might soon come where Holly Short's inability to follow orders would cost lives. Rubbing a rough hand across his face, Julius shoved himself back from his desk in a violent motion, splintering the pen cap between his molars. Now he really wanted a cigar. Maybe he would go yell at Wilkins instead, thought Root with satisfaction. Might take the edge off.

As he stalked away, his ruddy face growing beet red in preparation to vent some steam at an unsuspecting Wilkins, the review paper fluttered slightly on the Commander's desk. It lay next to another report, a mission brief on a rogue troll in Italy. Tacked to it was a picture of Officer Holly Short, auburn hair short, nutty complexion mixing well with the hazel of his eyes. He was standing at parade rest and looking with determination at the camera. His mouth was quirked up slightly at the sides, making him appear roguish. Catch me if you can, said those fiery eyes. I'll leave you all in my dust.

Little did the erstwhile Officer Short know, as he sat tucked safely in the magma pod riding its way to the surface, how right and wrong he was.

* * *

Standing and looking over the absolute wreckage that was the Italian restaurant, Holly Short let out a groan of anguish, covering his face in his hands. "I'm getting suspended for sure," he moaned, wincing as the grand crystal chandelier finally broke loose, shattering on the ground in a spray of shining shards. It crushed a few spindly tables, one of which used to house a truly magnificent parfait. Now, the whole thing was a mess of spattered cream and glass shards.

The team of fairies that had come to retrieve the troll and repair the damages all jumped back, swearing profusely as they did so. Thankfully, they had cleared the Mud People out of the restaurant already, so the only true loss in the fall was that of the parfait. There was a moment of silence. Then, all the assembled fairies turned as one to glare in Holly's direction. He at least had the grace to look ashamed, blushing a dark mahogany as he quickly stuffed his helmet back onto his head. Once the boys back at the office heard about this, he was _never_ going to live this down.

"Yeah, you are definitely getting suspended," said a fairy cheerfully from his place at Holly's side, using a portable scanner to map out the interior of the restaurant digitally to aide in restoration. "Lots of people are going to be working overtime on this, so I doubt you anyone's fairy of the year in here right now. But hey, at least none of the Mud People got snuffed. Chandeliers we can replace. Mud Men, not so much."

"Commander Root is going to drill me a new hole where the sun don't shine," muttered Holly into his helmet, the internal speakers carrying his words to the fairy at his side.

"Yeah, I heard you disobeyed a direct order," said the other fairy cheerfully, not looking up from his scanner and completely uncaring of his fellow fairy's soon-to-be suffering. "Based on that alone, I'd wager you're going to have more than a few new holes in you by the time he's through with you." Holly groaned again, loud and long. "Well Short, I'd get going if I were you," said the fairy, finally looked up from his scanner and giving the officer and friendly shake on the shoulder. "There's nothing really for you to do here, and if you stick around I think a few of my fellows are going to find a way to re-drop that chandelier on you while making it look like an accident."

"Thanks, Felix," Holly said with much relief, reaching around on his back to fire up his old DoubleDex wings. "Will you come visit me after the Commander puts me in the hospital?"

"No way! I'm going to make you d'arviting make you buy me dinner, regardless of what shape you're in," said Felix with obvious relish, his green eyes narrowing with pleasure. "This mess is going to take all night to clean up."

"I owe you one," said Holly gratefully, before simultaneously leaping skyward and firing up his wings. It was a risky move, but it was executed perfectly, and Holly was climbing further into the sky before his feet had touched the ground once more.

"Dinnnerrrrr!" shouted up Felix from below him, the whole sleepy village growing smaller and smaller as Holly climbed higher.

Once inside the safely of the clouds, Holly allowed his body to relax, his shoulder slumping and a sigh forcing its way from his lungs. Setting a course for the nearest oak, he opened up the throttle on his wings and let the exhilaration of flying wash away some of his disappointment.

It's not like he disobeyed orders simply because he felt like it, thought Holly with a frown, annoyed with the whole situation. He dropped to let his feet skim the tops of the clouds, disturbing the vapor with the wake of his passage. If he had waited for backup, everyone in the restaurant would have died. That had been one big troll. Holly had barely managed to escape serious injury with some quick thinking. But he doubted Commander Root was going to take that view, mused Holly sourly.

Checking his nav display to make sure he was still on course, Holly allowed himself to zone out, trying to envision how his meeting with the Commander would go once he got back to Haven. He could just see the rest of the office now, laughing over his latest screw up and placing bets on how red the Commander's face was going to get. Not that the office disliked Holly by any stretch of the imagination. Holly had always been good at making friends, once he had settled into an environment. School had been rough at first, as people thought that his "girly" name and small stature made him an easy target for bullying. To protect himself, Holly Short had decided to make himself as likable as possible. It was more his style to amass more friends than his attacker rather than earnign their respect through a pointless display of force. Plus, it meant he'd had plenty of friends to pal around with after class. Felix had been among his school chums, going as far as to take the LEPD Academy test with him. They had ended up in different divisions, as Felix was a computer whiz while Holly was a fly-boy, but they were still close.

Smiling, Holly brought himself into a steep dive, skimming over the water of the sea below like a stone across a pond. At least he could spend some time on the surface before he went down to face his doom. He loved it up here. Too bad the Mud Men were screwing it all to hell.

After twenty minutes of the wind whistling achingly over his helmet, Holly dropped into the branches of one of the largest oaks he had ever seen. Tucked neatly into the bend of a river, its massive limbs stretched up to almost touch the stars. Holly could easily stand on a branch with two feet outstretched and still have room to spare. Leaping down from perch to perch, relishing the flex and stretch of his muscles, Holly landed lightly on his feet at the tree's base. Unable to resist, he fingered the latch on his helmet, pulling it free from his head and dropping it to his feet. Closing his eyes, Holly took in a deep breath, drinking in the scent of the loam and the water. He relished the feeling of crisp night ear caress his ears.

There was barely any warning, only a flash of silver darting out of the corner of his eye. Then, a dull pinch on the side of his neck later, Holly had toppled to the ground, all the sensation draining from his limbs. The panic didn't even have time to set in property before his mind became hazy and liquid, all thoughts remaining just out of reach. Root is going to kill me, thought Holly groggily, his hazel eyes beginning to droop. There were vague notions hovering around the edges of his consciousness, things about his helmet and how someone had clearly been waiting here to trap him, but they faded away like silver smoke. Through the growing darkness, he heard the crunching of feet on leaves, his soon-to-be captors approaching up the north side of the bank.

"It's all true," came a deep voice, full of surprise and admiration. "I must admit, Mistress, even after all we had done I still had my doubts."

"Well, you can now put those doubts to rest," said a high, clear voice, responding to the man. In Holly's confusion, he couldn't determine if the second voice was male or female, but then again everything was fading now. There was a rustle, and a form knelt near his head. Painstakingly, Holly tilted his head up to face the figure, his eyes barely open.

"Stay back, human," slurred out Holly, trying to make the blurry dark shape silhouetted by moonlight come into focus. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

The person chuckled, the edges of their shape blurring into darkness as Holly began to float into unconsciousness. "No," said the high voice, and Holly's eyes drifted closed at last. "It is you who doesn't know who you are dealing with."

And then, everything was darkness.

* * *

Artemis rose from her kneeling position, dusting off her pants as she did so. She knew her clothes would get ruined on this trip, but it still irked her that she had to stoop to waiting in a filthy bog to capture her prey. But none of that mattered now. Artemis felt a thrill of excitement more potent than she had ever felt before rush through her. She had finally done it. Months and months of research, all her planning, was about to come into fruition. Brushing her hair behind her ear, Artemis made a note to herself to get it trimmed soon. It was becoming unruly.

"What now, Mistress?" asked Butler, looming over her in a way that blocked out the moonlight completely. Looking up at him, Artemis smiled widely, a grin as shark-like as the one Jon Spiro had once given her all those years ago.

"Now," she said simply, looking down on the small form edged with silver moonshine, at the pointed ears curving gracefully from its head, "The real fight begins." And Artemis Fowl the Second laughed in the darkness, the flow of triumph running sickly sweet through her veins.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.


	2. Different Cells

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter! Thank you to those who have read this story so far. Thank you also to my beta (who I know irl and changes her handle so frequently it's hard to keep track). Please let me know what you think about similarities or changes I should make from the books, and I am always free if you want to discuss my characterization of Arty and Holly. This has been so much fun so far, figuring out the little changes they would have by living different lives. As of right now, all mistakes are my own.

When Holly came to his senses, he honestly thought the troll had gotten him. He certainly had a troll-sized headache throbbing nastily behind his eyes. Keeping his eyes squeezed shut, lest the light reach his retinas, Holly gingerly reached for his magic and found a gaping crater of nothing. Oh, that's right. No magic. He had been on his way to refill it when…

And at moment, the memories came flooding back with all the subtlety of a sack of bricks, and Holly realized exactly just how screwed he was.

Captured. By a Mud Man. Well, technically it had been a Mud Girl, but the point still stood. Holly Short was now officially the first fairy to be captured by a human in centuries. Even if he survived this, his career was over for sure. But there was no time to dwell on that. Holly had more pressing matters, such as survival, to consider.

Hesitantly opening his eyes the slightest of cracks, he took in his surroundings. The room was small, bare concrete painting a bleak picture in swathes of grey. Holly's sensitive ears could pick up the buzz of fluorescent lights, his skin feeling soft cotton below his palm. And by the gods, the room smelled atrocious. A barrage of harsh chemical scents seared the inside of Holly's nostrils, making him want to retch. It was in no way helping his headache.

The conclusion was obvious. He was stuck in a prison cell.

And he wasn't alone, judging by the shallow rasp of breath and slow heartbeat echoing in the tiny space. His captor had been kind enough to join him. Quick plans darted like minnows through the waters of Holly's mind, considered and discarded in the span of seconds. Shifting minutely, he heard the gentle clink of metal on metal and felt a smooth pressure on his wrist. Holly let out a minute sigh. Cuffed to the bed. Sadly, his captor wasn't incompetent enough to leave him unrestrained.

"Stop pretending to be asleep. Not only is it clichéd, but it also boring to the extreme."

It was that voice again, thought Holly with a sudden surge of loathing. The one that had spoken to him before as he had slid into the dark abyss of unconsciousness. Irritated, he opened his eyes slowly and sat up, each move measured to prevent further pain. The chains connecting him to the bedframe clinked cheerfully as he moved, and he cursed the sound with all his might. Shifting, he twisted around, and there she was. A little girl sitting impassively on a wooden chair that looked like it cost an ungodly sum of money. She was a tiny thing, about his size to be honest, and had the thin angularness of someone just starting their first major growth spurt. Dressed in a fitted charcoal suit, shoes polished to an eerie shine, the Mud Girl sat as if it were a punishable offense for her back to touch her chair. Perched awkwardly on her nose were a pair of thick-framed glasses. It was the eyes behind them that stopped Holly short, a growing sense of unease springing up in his chest. They were cold and hard, piercingly blue and devoid of emotion. Instead, there was something like amused curiosity displayed on her face, like someone examining a mildly interesting curio. Like someone looking at an object.

It was this plain lack of empathy that made Holly Short wonder if he would be making it out of this situation alive.

As soon as his eyes mistakenly met hers, the girl commanded, "Please keep looking at my eyes." Caught in the thrall of her order, Holly froze, unable to look away. Stunned, he struggled futilely against the girl's' command as her lips curled into a little half-smile. "Hello," said the girl in a pleasant tone, carefully modulated and designed to sound disarming. "I am pleased to see you have awakened without any major issues. Knowing so little of your biology, I worried the sedative might have done serious harm."

Holly said nothing. He just sat there and glared, his lips pressed tight together and his hands balled into fists. He was trapped, but for the life of him Holly was unsure how the girl knew how to do it. She took his expression in with a quick sweep of her eyes, a look that started with his fists and ended lingering over his ears. "I do apologize for the circumstances under which we are currently meeting," said the girl in a tone that was as far from apologetic as you could possibly get. She gave a quick, superficial smile. "It was a necessary evil, I'm afraid. Your kind are quite elusive."

Holly's mind was churning frantically now, trying his best to analyze the situation while he still had time. Who knows what this Mud Person would do? For all he knew, he was about to be drugged into unconsciousness again. Begrudgingly, Holly realized that the best way to keep this from happening was to start asking this Mud Child questions. He needed to get her talking, try to figure out where he was, how much time had passed, and what she wanted with him. Holly felt like bile was rising in his throat at the very thought of communicating with this- this wretched Mud Girl, but what choice did he have? Sitting in silence would be satisfying, but ultimately unproductive.

"Where-" Holly started, but his voice cracked and broke, forcing him to clear his throat and try again. "Where am I?"

Ignoring his question, the girl squinted at him and asked, "Would you like some water? Or perhaps some food? I am not sure what your diet consists of, but I'm sure my kitchen will be able to accommodate your needs."

"I'd like my question answered," said Holly in a raspy voice, ignoring her question.

"Well," said the girl thoughtfully, tapping a thin finger on her lips. Her hair just brushed past the frames of her glasses, shifting as she moved her head. "I'm guessing we both have questions we would like to ask the other. However, since we both require proper incentive to do so, why don't we make this more even?"

Holly blinked, unsure of where this was going. "I'm listening," he grunted, eyes still glaring daggers at the prim girl sitting before him.

The girl looked pleased, though it was hard to tell for sure due to the impassiveness of her face. "It's very simple," she said, leaning forward a few degrees. "We take turns. I ask a question, and you answer honestly. Then you repeat the process. Are you interested?"

Holly snorted, reaching painfully deep within himself and dredging up the last few sparks of his magic. "No, human," he purred, lacing his voice with the faint threads of Mesmer. "Why don't you just free me from this place instead?"

Surprisingly, this elicited no reaction from the girl, even though he had been making direct eye contact with her the entire time. "I was hoping you would try that," said the girl, a glint of excitement in her blue eyes. "That was Mesmer, I believe? Fascinating."

Holly felt as every drop of blood drained sharply from his face. What the d'arviting hell? How did this Mud Girl know about the Mesmer?

"How?" gasped Holly, the shocked word tumbling from his lips before he could stop it.

"I take it that you are agreeing to the term of our arrangement?" she said with restrained eagerness, placing her hands on her knees and leaning in further.

"It's not like I have a choice," said Holly bitterly, stuck looking into those blue orbs. He shifted into a more upright position while still maintaining eye contact, moving until the length of chain prevented him from going further. He had only moved a few feet from the headboard of the bed.

"Well, no," admitted the girl with a smug little smile, "But I thought I would try being polite. After all, right now you are my honored guest, Mr. Fairy. It would be impolite of me to not treat you courteously."

"Oh, so chaining me in a cell is your idea of courtesy?" snorted Holly, giving the girl a sardonic raised eyebrow. "I'd hate to go to one of your slumber parties."

The girl looked annoyed at his comment, but ultimately decided to press on as if he had not said anything. "To answer your first question, your current location is Fowl Manor, which is my ancestral home. Now, what is your name?" She paused, then tacked on as if it was nothing more than an afterthought. "Oh, and I forbid you from lying to me."

Grinding his back molars until they hurt, Holly gritted out, "Captain Holly Short."

The girl raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback. "Hmm, a member of a military or police force," she mused, eyes narrowing as she processed the information. "And you must consider it an integral part of your identity if a simple question about your name would bring that to the fore. Interesting. Now, what is your question?"

"What is _your_ name?" asked Holly immediately. If he ever got back in contact with Haven, he would need a name for Foaly to look up to help pinpoint his location. Between that and something as pretentious-sounding as "Fowl Manor", he was sure they would be able to find him in less than a second.

Artemis looked surprised. "What a waste of a question," she said scathingly, then replied. "My name is Artemis Fowl the Second."

"How do I know you aren't lying?" asked Holly, disgusted and frustrated with this entire situation. His hands were now twisting the bed sheets with the tightness of his grip. "There's nothing here forcing you to tell the truth."

Artemis chuckled lightly, straightening and crossing her legs in an elegant motion. "Two reasons," she said in her high, light voice. "One, I gave you my word that I would. A Fowl never goes back on their word. And two," Artemis said with a grin that showed too many teeth for comfort, "I am confident in my ability to keep you here. Therefore, I am not concerned with what information I give you. By the time you are released, I will be untouchable. Therefore, there is no need for deception."

This was perhaps one of the least comforting things Holly had ever heard. Normally he would just assume it was bravado, an inflated sense of ego causing this girl to make grand claims. However, something in Holly's hindbrain was whispering to him that this Artemis character sounded devastatingly honest, and that he should be careful with this one.

"Now, back to what we were doing," said Artemis dismissively, drumming her fingers lightly against her knee as she thought. "I have stripped you of all your technology," she stated, words as blunt as a wrecking ball. Holly winced, not needing any reminding of how badly he had messed up. He had made a right hash of things somehow, and the guilt of that was beginning to gnaw at him. While he wasn't sure how he could have prevented this, Holly was sure he could have done _something_. "Disassembling it was not as difficult as I thought it might be," Artemis continued ruthlessly, fiddling idly with the cuffs of her tailored suit. "While the advances were fascinating, I would guess that there is only an approximate fifty-year difference between our technology and yours. My question for you is, given your knowledge, how advanced would you rank your equipment based on your society's technology? A scale of one to ten will suffice, one being primitive and ten being cutting edge."

Holly felt like a traitor answering any question this girl had about fairy-kind, spilling his species' well-guarded secrets with no way of stopping himself. "Seven," he gritted out, trying but unable to resist.

"Hmmm," said Artemis, clearly considering this information. Holly was starting to see this girl more clearly now, the excitement of discovery bleeding slowly through her impassive exterior. It was there in her eyes, barely restrained and poorly masked. Holly got the sudden impression that this Mud Girl wanted to pick him apart like a new toy, to extract every bit of knowledge he possessed as if wringing a sponge dry. It was like seeing the very edges of the sun, hungry and expansive as it greedily consumed everything it touched.

"It's my turn," said Holly abruptly, breaking the young girl from her train of thought. Holly crossed his legs underneath him, pointedly rattling his chain in the process in an attempt to make the girl feel guilt. It had all the effect of using a water pistol to extinguish a forest fire. Holly frowned, then posed one of the most pressing questions on his mind. "Are you going to hurt me?"

Artemis blinked, as if this concept hadn't even occurred to her. "Me, personally?" she asked, giving a small shake of her head as if to dislodge an insect from her short hair. "No. I am ill-suited for violence, and consider it beneath me." With a single pale finger, she gently tapped twice at her temple. "This is the best weapon anyone could have, Captain Holly Short. Now, will I have others hurt you?" She paused here, considering the question. "Not unless you force my hand," she said finally, smoothing a hand over the cloth on her knee. "I consider you valuable, so hurting you would not be in my best interest. However, if the situation forces me, I will have no qualms about using violence, Mr. Short." Her eyes blazed into his with all the intensity of an Arctic storm. "Consider yourself warned."

Holly let out a slow breath, then gave her a small nod. "Understood," he said, feeling the slightest hint of relief. It could all be lies, but Holly didn't think it was. It was reassuring to think this encounter wouldn't end with his body in sack floating down some river. This, he could work with.

"Good," said Artemis, still frosty, before brushing her hair out of her eyes. It didn't stay firmly in place, falling back to where it had been after only a few seconds. Artemis's mouth twisted with annoyance. Holly thought she looked slightly adorable right then, a hint of the child she was breaking through her adult exterior, one that had clearly been crafted with exquisite care. It was a quick flicker of emotion, one Holly ruthlessly squashed in its infancy.

"Looks like you need a haircut," said Holly a little nastily, giving the girl an arrogant smirk. He ran a deliberate hand over his own short locks, saying mockingly, "You should get it cut like mine. The ladies love it."

"Your deliberate attempts to insult me are childish," snapped Artemis, clearly aggravated. Taking in a slow, deep breath, Artemis composed herself in less than a second.

Sensing weakness, Holly pressed forward. "But it would go so well with your outfit. Bold choice there, a full suit. What, are you going to a business meeting?" He laughed derisively, trying to be as insulting as possible. "Someone is trying to look just like their father."

Holly could almost tangibly feel the moment he stepped over a line. He wasn't sure what did it, but something he said clearly struck a nerve. It was made apparent by the way Artemis immediately stopped breathing. He thought her eyes had been icy before. They were filled with an almost sub-zero hate now, a cold burn that hurt like frostbite. "I think we are done here," said Artemis coldly, rising from her seat with a detached elegance. "I will be leaving you with a guard. If you need anything such as food or water, ask her. I order you to stay here until I tell you otherwise. You are forbidden from harming anyone in this house, including yourself. I shall speak with you later."

Breaking eye contact with the fairy, the small Mud Child turned and stalked towards a metal door set into the barren concrete wall. Holly almost felt bad. In the instant she had turned to go, he had glimpsed a flash of raw grief hidden in the girl's anger. But this small Mud Girl was Holly's enemy, and enemy of fairy-kind. He couldn't afford the luxury of anything but hatred.

Holly knew he shouldn't have pushed her so hard, shouldn't have made her leave. But he was frustrated and angry and wanted to hurt her, even the slightest bit. He wanted to exact what small revenge he could from his place chained in this tiny cell. In a desperate bid to regain equilibrium, Holly called out to Artemis's retreating back, "You haven't asked your question yet!"

Artemis's steps faltered, then halted entirely. There was a long moment of stillness. Then, without turning around, Artemis asked in a low voice still suffused with emotion, "Back at you home, are you liked? Are there people who love you enough to come looking for you?"

Holly thought about Commander Root's scowling face, about Felix's promise of dinner, about Foaly's braying laugh as they watched a show covertly in the LEPD's break room. He thought of all the people on his squad, smiling and clapping him on the back when he brought in his first perp after a long, exhilarating chase. "Yes," he said with quiet conviction, meaning it as a promise, as a threat. "They will come for me."

Holly couldn't see Artemis's face, but when her voice rang out a moment later, he could almost see the hard look etched into it. "Good," she said viciously, placing her hand on the door and pulling it open. "Love is the most foolish of weaknesses. I look forward to exploiting it." With those dire words hanging in the air, Artemis walked calmly from the room, shutting the door with an ominous click.

Holly waited one moment, two. Then, when it became clear that he was alone as he was going to get, he let out a long breath, one he hadn't even noticed he'd been holding. Restless, Holly began idly pulling and twisting at his restraints as he let the conversation he had just partaken in replay in his mind. So that was his mysterious captor, this Artemis Fowl the Second. A child who had managed to do what full grown Mud Men hadn't in centuries. Clearly, this was an exceptional creature he had just spoken with, one that bore careful watching and a healthy dose of fear. With a pit of ice in his stomach, Holly prayed that his fellows back at Haven wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating this small Mud Child. But he had no way of warning them. He was quite firmly trapped.

Flopping back down on the bed, Holly closed his eyes, wishing away the concrete wall in his mind. He allowed himself a few second of remembering flying over the ocean, salt spray hitting his face and the wind whistling past his ears. The memory tasted bittersweet now, freedom that was currently stolen from him. Settling down into the bed, trying to present an as uninteresting picture as he could to his captor, Holly began to the process of planning his escape. An escape the object still clenched in the palm of his hand and a little luck might make possible.

* * *

Shutting the door behind her, Artemis leaned against it for a long minute, her head tipped back against the cool metal as she struggled to regain her composure. Damn that fairy. He had managed to get to her, to crawl under her skin and illicit emotion. Artemis roundly cursed herself, eyes squeezed tightly shut as she slowly gravitated back towards her center. She could not afford to fail, not now. After this was all over, she could feel as much as she wanted. But for now, everything was riding on her.

In control once more, Artemis opened her eyes and straightened. Gently removing the glasses from her face, she folded hem in small, precise motions and slipped them into her jacket pocket. She was sure to need those again soon.

From his place next to the door, Butler stared at the wall with his hands clasped behind his back, a pose of causal parade rest. Artemis could admire his patience. He seemed to have endless amounts of it, especially regarding this plan of hers. To a normal person, it must look like sheer insanity. But Artemis knew it would work. It had to.

"All finished, Mistress?" asked Butler without looking over, eyes still trained on the wall. Only for an instant, the man's eyes darted over and swept over her form, obviously checking for injury.

"Yes, Butler," said Artemis brusquely, making another failed attempt to sweep her hair behind her ears in an irritated gesture. She frowned at him, rolling her eyes at his covert attempts to look her over. "Really, Butler? The fairy was chained to the bed. What possible harm could he have done?" She chuckled lightly. "You worry too much, old friend."

"I think," said Butler in a dry voice, "That any amount of worry I choose to feel is well-justified in this particular case." He gave a causal roll of his mountainous shoulders, then looked down at her with an expression of firm censure. "I have agreed to this wild scheme of yours, Artemis, but only just. Don't push me further than I am willing to go on this. Kidnapping is bad enough, but not telling me everything-"

"If I could tell you everything, I would," said Artemis with obvious irritation, starting off down the hallway at a rapid pace. Butler followed behind, steps silent for such a large man. "We have been over this before. I will disclose what you need to know only when the time is right."

Butler frowned, worry casting a pall over his face, unseen by Artemis. She was too busy walking ahead, too focused on the task at hand. "I worry," he said lowly, almost inaudible, "That you aren't telling me how this all ends because you know I won't like it. Artemis, how far are you willing to go to get this money? There are easier ways, ways that don't involve covert plans with an unknown enemy."

"I will go as far as I have to," said Artemis in a tone so cold that it invited no rebuttal. She stopped and turned on her heel, looking up at Butler with an imperious glare. Butler met it with calm emotionlessness. "Now, check that Juliet is on her way, and take your post at the security station. Our guests should be arriving soon. We need to be there to greet them when they do. Our message in Russia should have been received less than an hour ago, so I doubt they will be happy."

"Yes, Mistress," said Butler, a hint of irritation causing a stiffness in his voice that normally wasn't present. "As you wish."

Hearing Butler's unvoiced frustration, Artemis sighed, softening a fraction. "Do you trust me, Butler?" she asked him in a softer voice, shoulders relaxing from their hard, defensive set.

"You know I do," said Butler without hesitation. And he did. He trusted this impetuous, brilliant, emotionally-stunted child with his life. And, for the time being, he was trusting her with Juliet's as well. It was the highest honor he could give anyone.

"Then trust that I know what I'm doing," said Artemis, more asking than telling him with the way her high voice twisted over the words. Her face softened, transforming her into the child she really was. "Because I trust you, Butler. With everything."

This was the closest to an apology she was capable of giving. Butler knew this and took it as such. "I will go to the security room," he said, giving Artemis a polite nod as he turned to leave.

"I will meet you there shortly," said Artemis as Butler walked back down the hallway, his massive strides eating up the distance in seconds.

With hesitant steps, Artemis ascended the stairs that would take her to the top of the West Wing. She had walked these steps thousands of times. It never got easier.

 _Step_. You can do this, Artemis thought, her loafers making no noise on the carpeted stair. She let her fingers trace over the banister as she moved, the ancient wood work smooth by generations of Fowls. _Step_. Maybe this time will be better. _Step_. Maybe this time will be different. _Step_. She could almost taste the age in the air, bleeding from the walls and suffusing each breath with the odor of decay. To her, it tasted like a promise. _Step_. Everything dies, it said. _Step_. Everything will always go to ruin. _Step_. What is lost cannot be found. _STEP_. What is broken cannot ever be repaired. _**STEP**_.

With every fiber of her being, Artemis wanted to burn it all to the ground.

The door handle was under her fingertips now, chill brass leeching the heat from her hand. Artemis made a note to make sure Juliet turned up the heat. Hesitating, Artemis pulled her hand from the knob, instead raising it to knock gently on the thick oak. "Mother?" she called, both hoping for and dreading a response.

There was no reply.

"Mother, I'm coming in," Artemis called brusquely with determination in her eyes, opening the door with a swift motion and stepping through the threshold. She could not afford to hesitate. If she did, she would lose courage and stay there, stuck in limbo outside this wooden barricade, unable to cross over.

The room was dark despite the time of day, thin shafts of light barely making their way through cracks in the curtains. The air was musty, thick with a trapped feeling. Both light and fresh air were forbidden here, banned by the mistress of this domain. The bed was a pristine spot in a sea of carnage, every other object in the room broken or tipped or scattered across the floor. Artemis winced, carefully skirting the worst of the mess. Mother must have flown into one of her rages again.

Approaching the massive bed the way one approaches a wild animal, Artemis's could begin to see a lump deadest in the middle as her eyes adjusted to the low light. It was deathly still, not even the movement to indicate breathing stirring the lumped sheets. "Mother?" Artemis asked in a half-whisper, taking careful, mincing steps over to the edge of the bed. With a hesitant and trembling hand, she reached out for the lump, pale fingers hovering inches above the sheets, eyes wide. "Mother?"

Without warning, something tackled her from the side, barreling her over until she hit the softness of the bed with a thud that almost knocked the wind out of her. Gasping with adrenaline-fueled shock, Artemis scrambled back, limbs flying pell-mell until she reached the safety of the other side of the bed. "Mother, please!" she shouted, voice desperate, raven hair all askew. "Don't you recognize me?"

A pale wraith dressed in a white nightgown hovered by the other side of the bed, a gaunt specter with lifeless eyes and matted hair. "Who are you?" she shrieked, her bony hands curled like claws in Artemis's direction, eyes so wide that the white were overtaking those sapphire irises. Spit flew from the corner of her lips, trailing down her chin in a glistening line. "You aren't my son!"

Trembling like a frightened rabbit, Artemis watched her carefully as she backed even further away. "Mother, please remember," she pleaded, trying desperately to keep her voice smooth and steady. "Mother, you don't have a son. You have a daughter. Don't you recognize me?"

"No!" Angeline howled, picking up a lamp and throwing it against the wall, causing it to shatter in a brilliant spray of china. Artemis winced. "No, you're lying, lying, no…" she panted, head whipping back and forth as she looked all around. "Where's Artemis?" she gasped, eyes roving around the darkened room. "Where's my darling?" Her thin, bird-like chest was heaving up and down, but the fight was clearly going out of her. Taking a chance, Artemis began to inch around the bed, careful to make no sudden moves. Her pale face was purposely placid, trying to look as non-threatening as she could.

"Father will be back soon," said Artemis in a soothing voice, her hands outstretched as if to coax a wounded animal closer to her. She had done that once, at a zoo where you could feed the captive elk. She remembered her sense of awe as the huge animal had taken careful steps over to her, gently lipping the feed from her small, outstretched hand. Her parents had each laid a supportive hand on her shoulder, helping Artemis stand her ground as her fear turned into amazed joy. It had been a happy day, one she could now not remember without a deep pang of sadness.

"Where, where is he?" Angeline whimpered, her thin arms hugging her chest as if to hold herself together. "I want my husband. Please," she said, looking Artemis dead in the eye, pleading with her. "Please, bring him back to me."

"I will, mother," said Artemis soothingly, reaching her mother's side and gently guiding her to sit down on the opulent bed. "He'll be back soon. Now, why don't you rest until then? Here, just lie down." Guiding her mother with gentle touched, Artemis drew the covers over her thin form. Looking down at her small wrist, Artemis checked the hands of her golden watch. Needing confirmation, Artemis quickly walked over to the window and peered out the curtain. Angeline moaned at the influx of light, but Artemis needed only a moment to confirm her hypothesis. Satisfied, she drew the curtains tight with a firm motion, then reached into her pocket and walked over to the bedside table. Pouring her mother a glass of water, Artemis carefully palmed the two white pills into the clear liquid, counting silently to give them time to dissolve. This was it, the final proof. The last piece of the plan hinged on this pivotal moment.

"Here," Artemis said soothingly, her hair falling in front of her cerulean eyes as she handed her mother the glass. "Drink this, mother. It will help you sleep." Angeline took it with the wide-eyed trust of a child, and Artemis helped her hold the glass as she drained it to the last drop. Placing the crystal cup back on the side-table, Artemis sat on the bed, holding her mother's cold hand as she watched her eyes drift gently closed.

"Thank you, Arty," Angeline sighed, her eyes closing and her breath slowly easing into the rhythm of sleep. Artemis's breath caught, the use of her childhood nickname catching her off guard. She let out a shaky breath, carefully stroking the hair from her mother's face.

"You're welcome, mother," Artemis said softly and sat there, a thin child in a suit, waiting in the dark for the signs of a miracle.


	3. Draw the Battle Lines

Commander Root was not, in fact, a happy camper. As he walked into the makeshift base at the foot of Fowl Manor, wet, singed, and exhausted from his flight, he would have happily doused this d'arviting Artemis Fowl the Second in gasoline and set cheerfully them ablaze. It was a comforting thought. He had the whole flight back from Russia to think about the chill cold of the whaling ship, the static of the video screen, and the smug satisfaction in the high voice that said, "Oh, and Artemis Fowl the Second sends their regards." He'd thought about that as he had watched the ship turn into a roiling inferno, thought about it more while he peeled the crispy suit from his toasted body, and kept thinking about it the whole flight back.

At this point, Julius Root had an extensive list of things he wanted to do to this Artemis Fowl the Second. He'd start working his way down it after he got his wayward officer back.

Growling at the fairies saluting as he stalked through the halls, Julius flung open the command room door with a bang and asked the room's occupants bluntly, "Is the d'arviting time stop up and running yet?"

The room was packed to the gills with wires and screens, the conference table having been shoved back to make room for the sprawl of technology. Four people in various positions of readiness were spread widely throughout the space. In front of the hub of screens, sitting in his custom chair and typing merrily away, was the centaur Foaly. A tin hat perched precariously on his furry head, he munched on a carrot absentmindedly as he worked, intermittently letting out short whinnies of frustration.

Off in the corner, the infamous Mulch Diggums was twirling in his swivel chair with an air of casual disregard, fishing snacks out of his beard and eyeing all the tech with a greedy gleam in his eye. A pair of loosened cuffs were lying on the table in front of him, more likely due to the convict repeatedly removing them himself rather than anyone with authority releasing him from his bonds. Root knew first-hand how hard it was to keep this slippery devil in restraints. Trouble Kelp was standing next to him, side-eyeing him with suspicion and fingering the buzz-baton at his belt with a threatening air. For some reason, the man's usually pristine uniform was muddied and stained, green grass marks and dirt clinging to its surface. More tellingly, Diggums looked like he wanted to die from amusement, while Trouble had the air of someone vaguely ashamed of something. Root gathered the LEP retrieval team hadn't been as successful as they hoped.

Finally, his old friend Brian Cudgeon was pacing the small length of open floor, his hands clasped firmly behind his back as he tried fruitlessly to both watch the monitors and Diggums at the same time. Personally, Root would have kept his eye on Diggums. The monitors weren't going to pinch his wallet while his back was turned.

"Up and running, Julius," said Cudgeon immediately, looking him over with a faint air of camaraderie. "Glad to see you not charred to a crisp."

"So am I," grunted Root, plopping himself heavily in a chair and cracking his knuckles. "I assume you were watching through my helmet cam?"

"We all were," mumbled Foaly from around his carrot, eyes never leaving the screen. "That was a real close call, boss. This Artemis has been one step ahead of us for every step so far."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Root irritably, pulling out a fungus cigar and gnashing it between his teeth. Turning to Trouble, he said with a raised eyebrow, "I assume the scouting team didn't have a fun time either, judging by the state of your jumpsuit."

Trouble had the good grace to look embarrassed, saying with a hint of defensiveness, "There was a huge Mud Man guarding the perimeter. He was looking through something, probably a jury-rigged anti-shield filter made from Short's helmet. We never stood a chance."

Root frowned deeply at this. That was troubling. To do that so quickly with unfamiliar technology… "Pull up what we know about this Fowl character," he barked at Foaly, who rolled his eyes but swiftly complied. "I want to know everything I can about this guy."

"Well, actually," said Foaly, turning in his chair as he pulled up an image, touch-typing to fill out the command request. "It's not really a guy, per say."As the image came up, Root's eyes widened. The picture that came up was of a small girl, her face pale and serious. She was wearing a small suit, standing in front of a what could only be described as a mansion and glaring at the camera. On either side were an older man and woman, both smiling politely, with a mountain of a man lingering behind them all.

"You're shitting me," said Root plainly, staring at the little girl dressed in an impeccably tailored suit. "I thought the perp was just modulating his voice. That's our fairy-napper? How old is she?"

"According to our files," said Foaly, hints of blatant admiration suffusing his voice, "She just turned twelve last month."

Root continued to stare at that little scowling face, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "How is this real life?" he asked incredulously, the cigar being ground to pulp between his teeth. "You're telling me this kid did all of this?"

Mulch was laughing aloud from his place in the corner, still twirling gaily in his seat. "Outfoxed by a Mud Girl!" he hooted, hands clutched over his stomach with the force of his mirth. "This is going to be one for the history books."

"Shut your trap, convict!" snarled Root, turning his beet-red face to glare furiously at the dwarf. "I have a Captain held hostage in there!"

"I know," said Mulch, all of a sudden turning serious. He stopped his spinning, facing the room. "That's the only reason I agreed to help you guys. I like Short. He's funny."

"Yes, yes, we all know Captain Short is a fine officer," said Cudgeon irritably, waving this away with an impatient hand. "But the real priority is to wipe these Mud People's memories and put this whole thing behind us."

Root frowned, but decided to let this statement go. For now. The Mud People did need to be memory-wiped, after all. "Have we had any ransom demands?" he asked Briar brusquely.

"Yes," said Cudgeon, his lips twisting in disgust. "One metric ton of gold. Unmarked ingots only."

The cigar fell right out of Root's gaping mouth. "Seriously?" he wheezed, eyes bulging out of his skull. "What the hell did the Council have to say about that?"

"They're going to shell out," said Trouble with grudging admiration. "They're taking it on faith that we'll be able to get the money back within the time limit. By any means necessary. You know how the Council is about gold."

Root winced. He vividly remembers his last departmental budget meeting. "How far have they ordered this to go?" he asks Briar darkly.

Cudgeon smirks. "We'll send the dwarf in. After that, well." He gives a non-committal shrug of his shoulder, spreading his hands in a 'what can you do?' gesture. "That remains to be seen. Your play with the dwarf had better come through, Julius."

"It will," said Root darkly, staring at Mulch with clear threat, which the dwarf ignored impressively.

"Play me the ransom tape," said Root with a grunt, dusting off his dropped cigar before desperately putting it back in his mouth. He needed everything he could get to make it through this.

"Sure thing," said Foaly, fingers a blur as he pulled up the recording. Root and the rest watched it in silence, though the others in the room had clearly seen it before. He stood from his seat, walking over to get a closer look at the little girl sitting confidently in a throne of a chair. Her mouth was pulled in a hint of a smirk as she spoke, her voicing both cutting and confident. There was no empathy in her eyes, and Root watched her face closely as she made her demands.

"You cannot beat me," the girl said arrogantly, her mouth curled in a smile, "Because I have a way to escape the time field."

Root frowned at this, turning to Foaly. "What do the experts say?" he asked the centaur.

Foaly shook his head with reluctant admiration. "She believes it," he said. "I don't know if it's true, but she definitely thinks it is."

"Well, it's time to put this to the test," said Root viciously, standing tall like a general about to go to war. He paces the room like a lion, and even Mulch knows to be silent at the expression currently on his face. "I don't know how this girl found out so much about fairies," he said with cutting hardness, eyes blazing, "But if she knows our rules, then it's time to throw them out the window." He sits at the head of the conference table, steeples his fingers, and says in a growling voice, "Let's put this Mud Girl in her place."

* * *

A sad fact that Artemis was beginning to realize was that real life was rarely as neat as she imagined it in her head. That was the problem, mused Artemis as her short strides carried her to the control room. She could plan all she wished, examine the situation from every angle, but in the end there were certain things left in the hands of fate. Life was not chess. Life would forever be a gamble, and Lady Luck hadn't decided whether she was going to smile on Artemis today.

The die has been cast, thought Artemis grimly, coming to a halt in front of the door to her command room. From now on, all she could do was defend her position until the appointed hour. Turning the ornate door knob, she slipped carefully into the room, a monstrous tangle of screen and wires rising to greet her. Artemis was, of course, unaware how closely her set-up mirrored one created by a certain paranoid centaur. It would be some time before they were involved in a direct clash of wits, and even longer before they worked together as allies. For now, the two of them sat a small field and a large house apart, pursing their lips in a synchronous motion as they both viewed their computer screens.

Butler appeared like a shadow on Artemis's right, placing a large hand on the back of the girl's custom leather chair. Artemis looked up for a moment, the hair cascading back from her face to reveal her serious expression, but went back to her intense scrutiny of the computer monitors almost immediately. The bright light of the screens washed out her face, making her skin appear paler than it was. This in itself was an impressive feat. With the right hat, Butler often joked he could accidentally lose her in a blizzard.

Given how the next year would end, Butler really should have known better than to tempt fate with statements like these.

"How is Angeline?" asked Butler, doing his best to sound casual. He knew seeing her mother in such a state took a heavy toll on his young charge.

"Sleeping, for now," replied Artemis, giving an odd quirk of her lips as she did so. Butler wasn't sure how to interpret this, so instead he cleared his throat and gave Artemis a quick situation report.

"Juliet is with the fairy now, wearing the glasses as you instructed," said Butler, waving a monitor down and to the left. It showed the entirety of the cell, the fairy encapsulated within. The creature was still, for now, lying on the cot with his eyes closed shut. Perhaps it was a precaution, a way of guarding against more commands. That would be a foolish waste of time, thought Artemis smugly, straightening her suit cuffs with a flick of her wrists. If she were in his position, Artemis was sure to have found a better use of her energy.

Sitting in the hall outside, chewing casually on a stick of gum and flipping her way through Wrestling Weekly, was Juliet. Her glossy hair was, as per usual, wound in a tight braid adorned at the end with a hard stone. Her matte black tank-top was stretched tight over the expanse of her chest, display her… assets prominently. Artemis made a noise of disgust at this, wrinkling her nose and narrowing her eyes. For some reason, whenever Artemis was faced with Juliet's… chest, a wash of emotions would begin churning in the pit of her stomach. Her only theory was that it was some sort of negative conditioning, a reaction to how Artemis tended to feel when forced to interact with Juliet's personality. While there were many things Artemis admired about Juliet, the way she constantly felt the need to fill perfectly blissful silence with empty chatter was not one of them. Artemis swore she had developed an early-onset ulcer the last time she had spent more than an hour in the car with the loquacious teen.

Looking up from her magazine, Juliet spotted the corner camera and gave a peppy wave. Her lush lips had clearly been adorned with some form of lip gloss, and the jade of her eyes was framed with shadow and liner. She was, admitted Artemis with a kind of grumbling acquiescence, a stunning individual. Artemis reached over to the desk, picking up the yellow walkie-talkie that now served as the Fowl's main line of communication. As soon as the time stop had come into effect, all cell communication had gone dead. Luckily, Fowl Manor ran on closed circuit electricity, so everything else was still functioning. Artemis had fiddled with the walkie-talkies herself, putting the transponders on a continuously oscillating bandwidth set to synchronize only with their handsets. Artemis has no doubt that the fairies, given time, could unscramble the pattern. She hoped, however, that this whole ordeal would be done by the time they even noticed the signal.

Holding down the talk button, Artemis brought the hideous yellow monstrosity to her lips and said with forced calm, "Juliet, why are you not watching the prisoner?"

Juliet jumped slightly at the squawk of the handset, but picked up her corresponding walkie-talkie and replied, "You know, Artemis, when you're talking over radio you should always end your message with the word 'over'." She paused, then said, "Over," with a faint smile.

Artemis gritted her teeth, clenching the walkie-talkie tight in her fist. "I knew that!" hissed Artemis into the handset with obvious annoyance. "I just forgot for a moment." Huffing out an irritated breath, Artemis snapped out, "Over!" and dropped the walkie-talkie back on the desk with an exasperated noise.

Butler knew better than to chuckle the way he could see Juliet currently doing over the camera feed, but he pulled out his own communicator and said in a chastising tone, "Don't let your guard down, Juliet. This is a whole species we know nothing about. Who knows what tricks they have up their sleeves? Over."

With a roll of her eyes, Juliet flipped her hair and said back, "Geez, relax. This door could withstand a bomb blast. I doubt Mr. Lucky Charms is getting out of that any time soon. Over."

"Did you at least remove the restraints like I instructed? Over," asked Artemis, assuming a semi-lecturing tone.

"No, _Mum_ , but I was going to," said Juliet, seemingly unconcerned with this matter. She licked her finger and tucked the glossy page of her magazine. "I'll do it in a minute. Over."

"You'd better," said Artemis darkly, before stowing the communicator safely in her suit pocket.

From beneath the cloth, a voice could be faintly heard saying, "You forgot to say 'over'!" Butler could just barely keep a leash on his laughter at the expression Artemis was currently making.

Looking in askance in Butler's direction, Artemis massaged her temples and asked wearily, "Is there any way to exert a modicum of control over your sister?"

"Not that I am aware of," said Butler dryly, giving the other screens a quick once-over. No one had approached the building since that first advance with the fairy team. Since then, nothing. It had been disturbingly quiet. Frowning, Butler voiced his concerns to Artemis.

"I feel it too," said Artemis thoughtfully, giving a distrustful look at the view screens. "I fear our enemies are making their move. But from where?" Her blue eyes practically alive with the speed of her thoughts, Artemis said with sudden brusqueness, "Butler, do a sweep of the house. Make sure to check our cameras for tampering, touch in with Juliet, and look at all ingresses and egresses. Return here when you are done. I know they can't enter without permission, but I have a strange feeling that something is not right."

"Yes, mistress," said Butler without preamble, unholstering his Sig Sauer as he left the cramped room. Left sitting there with nothing but the computers for company, Artemis's fists were balled up tight as she ceaselessly scanned each and every monitor.

"There must be something," muttered Artemis, her eyes darting from point to point, running an unthinking hand to push her hair behind her ear. "I've missed something. But what?"

Artemis was so focused on thinking of potential weaknesses in the Manor's defenses, she spared less brain power than she should have trying to puzzle out what she was seeing on the lower left monitor. If she had only taken the time to figure out Holly's plan, the rest of the next hour would have been less of a disaster. But Lady Luck had made up her mind, and she was definitely not smiling on Artemis today.

* * *

"Would you stop that?" shouted Juliet, a scowl on her face as the din of crashing metal continued within the cell. Temporarily lifting her lame Artemis-mandated sunglasses, she tried in vain to massage away the headache pounding behind her eyes. No such luck. The fairy had been smashing that bed around for the last ten minutes, banging the heavy frame against the hard concrete.

There was a pause from inside, the noise blessedly ceasing for a short moment. "No!" called the fairy in a voice that was cruelly cheerful, before resuming his deliberate attempt to drive Juliet insane. Gritting her teeth, Juliet dropped the magazine she had been trying to read and pushed herself to her feet. Walking over to the door, she looked again at their small captive and his baffling movements. While the fairy's cuffs gave him little slack, the small creature had none the less managed to stand by the side of his cot, lifting the solid metal frame in a dazzling feat of strength before dropping it to crash back to the floor. Juliet watched his biceps bulge with admiration. She could appreciate a ripped dude when she saw one. It would have been super cool to wrestle with him, a unique fairy vs. human grudge match. But, Artemis was being a kill-joy, as per usual. Juliet pouted as she considered the tantalizing possibilities, now forever lost to her. She never got to do anything fun in this house.

"Look," Juliet said loudly in between the clatter and clang of metal. "Just tell me what the hell you want. Are you doing this just to drive me insane? Or is this you protesting your captivity by trying to break the furniture?"

"Why not both?" the fairy grunted, shoulders straining as he lifted his weight once more. Sweat was dripping down the back of his tan neck.

Juliet huffed at this, crossing her arms. "Seriously, what do you want?" she asked, clearly approaching the end of her patience. "Do you want food? Water? A book? Porn? I'll give you whatever. Just, for the love of god, stop trying to make my ear drums bleed."

The fairy paused in mid-lift, lower the bed back down to the ground. He looked in Juliet's direction for the first time, though Juliet noticed his eyes never went anywhere near hers. "Aside from my freedom?" he asked wryly, using the corner of the bed sheet to wipe the sweat from his face. "I'd like this cuff off my wrist. That Artemis whelp chained me pretty close to the bed. There isn't a lot of slack here, and it's starting to hurt." And it was true. Upon closer inspection, Juliet could see red blood dripping from the place where the cuff had dug into the fairy's wrist. Huh, she thought in a moment of introspection. Apparently magical creatures still bleed red.

"Arty wasn't the one who chained you," said Juliet with a roll of her eyes. "It was my brother. He said something about extra precautions, even though Arty seemed pretty convinced she could just magic you into stay there or something."

"Well regardless, I'd like them off," said the fairy, massaging the non-bloody area around his manacled wrist. "Please," he added belatedly, almost with a sense of reluctance. Juliet didn't blame him. She's be pissed if she'd been captured too.

Juliet sighed, simply glad the cacophony had stopped, for the time being. "Fine," she said with a huff, pulling out the master key ring attached to her belt. "It's not like whatever voodoo Artemis put on you allows you to leave the cell anyways." Opening the door with a loud clank and the click of a lock disengaging, Juliet entered the room with confident bravado. After all, she was a Butler, a ten-times wrestling champion, and could bench-press five of this guy with one arm. What did she need to be afraid of?

"Just keep your hands where I can see them," she said warningly, moving over to the chain attached to the bed, her eyes never leaving the fairy.

"Yes, ma'am," said the fairy with a hint of sarcasm, his eyebrows raised in a "who, me?" expression that fooled no one. Juliet frowned at him, but continued to feel along the rail for the cuff attached to the bed frame. Key already in hand, she looked down for one second, needing to find the keyhole.

It happened fast. The fairy moved in a blur, and Juliet snapped to attention, ready to defend herself. But the damage was already done, as the fairy's blow had sent her sunglasses spinning to the floor. They landed at the fairy's feet, and for the first time, the two people's eyes met.

The fairy was smiling.

"Why don't you unlock my cuffs?" he purred in a voice like melted chocolate.

"Sure thing," said Juliet in a daze, not really seeing why she should disobey a request from someone with such a beautiful voice. She would do anything to make the voice happy. As if moving in a dream, she unlocked the fairy's bonds. He smiled up at her, clearly pleased. In her mesmered state, Juliet couldn't see the ugly anger etched onto the fairy's face.

"Silly Mud Woman," he said, his voice worming its way into her ears and grabbing her by the brain. "Just because I was ordered to not leave the house does not mean I can't leave this cell. Now, I want you to lock yourself in the cuffs and stay here. Can you do that for me?"

Juliet frowned. There was something about this that seemed… But in the end, her desire to please the voice was just too strong. "I guess," she said reluctantly, sitting on the bed so as better to do her restraints.

"Good," said the fairy. He walked to the door, then paused, looking back at her with a new expression. "You don't seem particularly bad," he said in a gentler tone. "Not like that Artemis girl. You should find better friends. Something tells me you can do better."

Juliet shook her head slowly, smiling bemusedly. "Naw," she said, a hint of a slur suffusing her voice. "Arty isn't all that bad. Kinda cold, but I don't blame her. She's just desperate right now."

The fairy frowned, seemingly torn between leaving straight away and finding out more. Finally, curiosity won out. "Why desperate?" he asked, moving a few inches closer. His face broke into a sneer. "Has her daddy's money dropped into the six digits?" he asked with contempt.

Juliet made an angry face, though it was muted greatly by the pall cast over her mind. It was impressive she could express anything but glazed happiness under the Mesmer. "Artemis Senior is dead," she said flatly. The fairy's eyes widened in shock. "Arty thinks he's still alive though," Juliet said in a dreamier tone, sliding back into her stupor. Her eyes still had a sadness in them though, a hint of pain that crinkled them at the corners. "She's spent all the money trying to find him. But it's all gone now."

"I see," said the fairy, his face thoughtful and a touch relieved. "So, it's just about the gold, and not about dissecting me for science. Good to know." Giving Juliet the faintest hint of a sad smile, he told her, "You will be the happiest Mud Woman in the world while you stay in this room."

Immediately, a euphoria spread through Juliet's body, a wide smile breaking across her face. She leaned back onto the bed, basking in the feeling like a cat by a warm fire. "Yay," she said hazily, smiling up at the bare concrete ceiling. She did not notice the key chain missing at her waist, nor hear the door close behind the fairy's retreating body. She was in the middle of a wrestling championship, holding that gold belt high, feeling as if she were on top of the world. Her brother was there, cheering from the sidelines, Artemis at his side.

Little Arty was smiling. It had been forever since Juliet had seen Arty smile like that.

* * *

 

Holly closed the metal door carefully, hearing the lock click gently back into place. Picking a direction, he began to walk briskly down the corridor, absorbing everything he had learned. So, the little brat had her reasons after all. In truth, Holly could sympathize. Not that it was going to stop him from burning the house down until that girl was begging her to leave the property. The only thing that had changed was now Holly would feel a little bad about it later. Holly swore aloud under his breath, scowling at the air as his short legs took him swiftly down the lush corridor. In the end, this didn't erase the fact that he had been kidnapped against his will. He still needed to get out.

Looking down at his clenched fist, Holly looked at the small acorn nestled in the meat of his palm before slipping it carefully into his pocket. He smiled to himself. Time to find a nice patch of dirt to plant this in. Then, thought Holly with relish, the gloves were off. Reasons or no, Artemis Fowl the Second was going to rue the day she thought she could chain up Holly Short. Holly was going to make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I predict one more chapter, then we'll be at the end of the first book. We will see where this goes from here. I might start doing one-shots, or take a break from this. Life is kind of crazy right now! As always, feedback is appreciated. :)


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